


Gifts

by justlikeswitchblades



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-26 09:50:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3846388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikeswitchblades/pseuds/justlikeswitchblades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it came to his relationship with Hayato, Takeshi was usually the one who took initiative. </p>
<p>So, when Hayato approached Takeshi after school and told him that he wanted them to walk home together to his apartment for a change, Takeshi’s stomach couldn’t help but do a nervous flip.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY TAKESHI!!! these two are the original otp for me and i still love them so goddamn much, so when i heard about 8059 week, i knew i had to do something for them. im mostly free from exam hell now, so here's this little thing!
> 
> a note on names: i see takeshi as calling hayato by his last name a lot, sometimes shortening it to dera as a term of endearment. hayato calls him by his first name because he just doesn't give a fuck.

When it came to his relationship with Hayato, Takeshi was usually the one who took initiative. He was the one who first suggested they should start walking to school together. He was always the one inviting him into his home, even making him a bento for lunch every once in a while. He told him when and where his baseball games would be, and was admittedly a little surprised when Hayato showed up to the season opener. It wasn’t that Hayato wasn’t accessible—Takeshi had been chipping away at the near-permanent veneer of annoyance he wore ever since he met him—he just seemed to prefer to follow along with whatever Takeshi suggested rather than bringing it up himself. Not that Takeshi was the type to mind.

So, when Hayato approached Takeshi after school and told him that he wanted them to walk home together to his apartment for a change, Takeshi’s stomach couldn’t help but do a nervous flip. Or, maybe it was out of excitement—he couldn’t quite tell the difference.

“Geez, stop being so jittery, will you? It’s not like this is the first time I’ve ever invited you over before.” Takeshi rocked on his heels for a moment longer, then planted his feet firmly on the elevator floor. 

“Sorry.” The boy laughed as he scratched the back of his head, “It’s still a bit of a rarity for you to invite me over though, y’know?”

Hayato clicked his tongue, glancing away from him. “Whatever. The only reason I invited you over is because it’d be a pain to bring your birthday gift to school, so don’t get too worked up about it.” Takeshi let out a small gasp, the warmth of his grin radiating around them in the small space.

“You got me something? Oh, Gokudera, you didn’t have to do that…” The elevator jerked to a stop, and Hayato stepped out, dismissing the comment with a shrug.

“Don’t worry about it.” He moved down the hallway, and Takeshi followed, almost jogging to keep up with his steps.

“You could have told me earlier,” exhaled Takeshi with a soft sigh. “I was starting to think that you had forgotten about my birthday, you know.”

“How could I? Every other person was telling you happy birthday. I’d have to be deaf to not notice that.”

“Still…it would’ve been nice to hear you say it, too.”

Hayato paused in front of his door, key hovering before the lock, the wrinkle in his brow deepening as he heard the tinge of hurt in Takeshi’s voice. He huffed out a breath as he unlocked the door, then swung it open, Takeshi close behind as he stepped inside. Uri meowed his greetings, slinking between Takeshi’s legs as he slipped his shoes off, purring softly as the boy stroked his fur.

Takeshi entered the living room, and tried not to gawk at the oblong box that sat atop the table, wrapped in dark blue paper that shimmered a little in the afternoon sunlight. He swallowed a gulp as he sat down in front of it, then opened his mouth, about to ask Hayato for a glass of water. But the boy, emerging from the kitchen, placed a plate of cake in front of him before he could voice his request.

“You’re probably going to do something with your parents tonight, so…eat.” The words tumbled out of his mouth, a little strained as he dropped down onto a pillow across from Takeshi, the tips of his ears turning pink. He then stuffed a bite of cake into his mouth, almost as if to prevent himself from uttering anything that would embarrass him further. Takeshi blinked.

“O…okay.” Takeshi gingerly pressed the side of his fork into his slice of cake, chewing slowly as the sweetness of the strawberries and cream filled his mouth. He flicked his eyes up, meeting Hayato’s gaze until the boy glanced away a moment later. 

“Uh, I don’t mean to be rude, but can I…?” He gestured at the box in front of him, a small cough interrupting the silence that had budded between them. Hayato seized the chance to recover from his previous awkwardness, raising an eyebrow as his lips curled into the beginnings of a cocky grin.

“Duh. It’s your present, idiot. Of course you can.” Takeshi shrugged and offered something of a sheepish expression in response, putting his fork back down his plate. His hands moved to the sides of the box, fingers curling under the neat creases of the wrapping paper as he lifted the carefully pressed flaps from the pieces of scotch tape that held them down. He tore a jagged line across the top of the box, the plain cardboard revealing itself underneath as he ripped the rest of the paper away, and he let out a low whistle as he sorted through the tissue paper inside.

“Oh wow, Gokudera,” Takeshi breathed, lifting the object out of the box to inspect it further. “I…I don’t even know to say.”

The bat was worn, its old wood soft to the touch as Takeshi held it in his hands. He rolled it between his fingers, investigating the small cracks, a spot near the top where the wood had chipped. His eyes positively sparkled, and his face lit up with a grin as he poured over the bat, mesmerized.

“My grandfather made friends with some American troops stationed in Italy in the forties,” began Hayato, “and apparently they played baseball together a lot. He even told a few stories about them when I was a kid. Anyways, I found that back when I went home for the holidays, and I don’t know jack shit about taking care of old stuff. But it doesn’t seem to be rotting or anything, so I figured maybe, y’know, you would…like it.” Hayato tried to play off the comment as his hand rose to scratch the back of his neck, but as their eyes met, Takeshi could tell he was open, unguarded.

“I don’t know too much about taking care of stuff like this, either, but I’m sure I can figure out how,” mused Takeshi, his eyes drifting back down to mull of the spirals and circles of patterns made up in the grain of the wood, flicking back up to look at Hayato a second later, full of concern. “But, are you sure it’s okay for me to have this? It sounds like you cared about your grandfather a lot, and I wouldn’t want to take away something so important to you…”

“It’s _because_ I care about you, too, you—” Hayato clicked his tongue and clamped his mouth down on the rest of the outburst, fuming, but mostly at himself. Takeshi stalled. Then, a laugh bubbled up from his throat. Then another, and another, and another, until he was hunched over, trembling from the laughter that racked his body. Finally, he lifted his head with a wheeze.

“Of course you do, Gokudera.” Takeshi paused to wipe a tear from his eye, then smiled at Hayato, making him feel as if he were being enveloped by the sun itself. “Not being able to notice that would be truly idiotic of me, huh?”

He carefully placed the bat back in its tissue paper bed, then rose, dropping to his knees beside Hayato. He leaned his forehead against the other boy’s, staring into his eyes. Hayato moved his hand, and their fingers slowly laced together.

“Happy birthday, Takeshi.” He murmured the words softly, but their impact was far from small—when he used his name, Takeshi’s heart soared. He nuzzled him roughly, unable to contain his joy, and Hayato let out a small whine. Takeshi laughed in response.

“Thank you, Gokudera.”


End file.
